


Wool and Orange Blossoms

by raktajinos



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Episode Related, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pansexual Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4667363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raktajinos/pseuds/raktajinos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you take walk-ins?”  a man asked, his voice low, rumbling through the office.</p><p>The skin on the back of Matt’s neck rippled with recognition and he fought a grin. It was always the voice; it was what had captured his attention last night. Vivid memories flashed across his consciousness and he blushed, cheeks flushing and another tingle ran down his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wool and Orange Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scrawlix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlix/gifts).



> This is a sort of episode AU for 1x03, when James comes into Nelson & Murdoch for the first time. 
> 
> To my giftee, I hope you like this!

“Do you take walk-ins?” a man asked, his voice low, rumbling through the office.

The skin on the back of Matt’s neck rippled with recognition and he fought a grin.

It was always the voice; it was what had captured his attention last night. Vivid memories flashed across his consciousness and he blushed, cheeks flushing and another tingle ran down his skin. 

\---

___  
His fingers dug into the walls, arms balancing himself in the awkward, slightly bent over position he was in, pushing back against the man that was currently pistoning in and out of his body, one arm on the wall next to his, the other wrapped around his waist. Sweat beaded on his skin and he moaned, clenching his muscles around the other man as he whispered filthy things into Matt's ear; filthy, explicit things that only made him hotter.  
_

\---

“Yes, of course, come on in,” Foggy said warmly, and welcoming the stranger into their offices. 

Matt heard him move, his steps an odd blend of arrogant confidence and bumbling dork, as if he hadn’t yet decided which side of his personality he was going to sell to them, the indecision putting Matt on the alert. He mentally catalogued the weight of the man’s gait, estimating him as he moved through their space; definitely a predator. Dangerous. Exactly how he liked them; torn between arousal and suspicion. 

The man seemed to settle on arrogant confidence, steps become more assured and pronounced, the files in his arms no longer shuffling. He could hear the soft swish of his clothes; shirt against jacket, jacket against pants, cufflinks against a watch. 

\--- _  
He pushed his hands up the man’s chest, feeling the lux and ridiculously expensive fabric of his clothing. The buttery softness of a silk tie, a linen blend shirt that still had some crispness in it despite the hour, and a wool suit, the knit so fine and tailoring so sharp it almost felt wrong to touch. Almost. He felt like money, like sex. Smelled like it too, clean skin with just a hint of some sort of citrus cologne._

_He grabbed the tie and wrapped it around his hand, crushing the silk and pulled the man closer to him with a growl, pulling him closer to his body, meeting his mouth half way. Matt ploughed his mouth, running his tongue along the inside of his lips, biting the lower one just enough to cause the delightful edge of pain; the man bucked his hips against Matt in approval. He tasted good, he’d brushed his teeth within the last few hours, a hint of mint remaining, mixing with the whisky he’d ordered earlier.  
_

\---

He doubted the man recognized him, the club they met in had been dark and they hadn't really spent any more time together than was necessary. Plus, this man had seen more of the back of his head than his face. 

He didn’t hear the telltale signs of recognition from him when he saw him, no small intake of breathe, no loss of words, nothing. Most abled people didn’t fully utilize their senses, which continued to serve him well, but he’d been told he had a rather...memorable mouth, which had proven to be his giveaway tell, for both one night stands and under his mask. 

Foggy escorted the man into their interview room and he began to pitch his employer to them. Matt was listening, but his attention was divided by taking the man in, observing him in the daylight hours when professionalism and decorum took precedence over all. 

Matt knew he had a type; he was pretty eclectic in what he found attractive, but if he was talking about hitting all his buttons, this man was it. He was attracted to sound and smell above all else; the timbre of a voice, whether it belied confidence or nervousness, how tongue and words met teeth as they spoke. He liked huskier voices, for both men and women. Voices that had a rasp to them, a ferocity, a roughness to the voice that carried the confidence and deep passion of a person. And this man had that voice, and when he heard it last night, he had to have him.

A better friend wouldn’t keep as many things from their best friend as he did; and he wasn’t sure what Foggy would be more shocked about, his secret vigilantism or his secret pansexuality. He'd started going to clubs alone in college, looking for something to do, something to challenge his senses. The dark lighting, weird fashions, and inebriated state of the patrons allowed him to exist without being 'the blind guy' as most people didn't notice him...and the ones that did were too focused on getting something else to worry about why he was wearing sunglasses in a nightclub. 

It started off as a test of his abilities, but it mutated into something else. The stress of his job and his _other_ job had him looking for release, and just enjoying mindless sex with random hookups in the back of a club worked for him. He didn't have a gender preference, depended on his mood or who was available, but he found men were less likely to notice details about him than women did, and he wanted to keep things private, so he ended up with men just to keep things more straightforward. 

\--- _  
The club was busy, sweaty bodies packed in tightly as they danced to the music. There were too many people for Matt’s liking, made it too hard to focus and made him feel anxious, on edge; he’d be denying it if he said he didn’t like it. He needed to punch something or fuck someone._

_“Whisky, top shelf,” a man said, firmly but politely to the bartender, pressing into Matt’s personal space in order to get to the bar._

_The rumble of his voice immediately caught Matt’s attention and he brazenly put his hand on the man’s thigh, running it over the expensive fabric of his pants to lightly touch his inseam._

_“Hello,” the man said, turning his body into Matt’s touch, his voice dripping with inflection._

_Matt grinned.  
_

\---

As the man spoke, attempting to convince them that his employer was a worthy client, Matt’s senses were on high alert. He knew in his gut that something was off about this man, that he was connected to whatever king-pin was running the kitchen from the shadows. But all his physical markers were calm; pulse, breath, voice. Whatever he did, he either didn’t have an ethical issue with it or he believed in the work to an almost faith-like level. 

He was a curious man, refusing to give his name, and having a general air of dangerous mystery to him. It was as alluring now as it was last night; though Matt was comfortable risking his body, never his professionalism. Matt caught the familiar scent of cologne in the air, so subtle he only caught it because he expected it, knew it would be there. Matt liked that, preferred it when people wore a scent so expertly that it didn’t overpower the room and to smell it you had to be in a rather intimate position. Last night he’d buried his nose in this man’s neck as the man buried himself in his ass. Matt shifted in his seat, trying not to grin. He was wearing it again today, easier now to detect that he knew what he was looking for. It was an expensive cologne, imported, a base of orange blossom that was so unique, especially for a man to wear. It was just another intriguing element of him. 

\--- ___  
Matt reached an arm back and wove his hand through the man’s hair, pulling it roughly, moaning as the man bit down on his neck in response. He was so close, both of them were, the nameless man’s movements falling out of the confident rhythm he’d built up. With the hand not balancing them, the man reached around their hips and grabbed Matt’s cock, expertly twisting his wrist in rhythm with his hips. Matt moaned, letting himself just feel, enjoying the softness of this man’s hands. He whispered dirty things in his ear, coaching Matt to come with him; and he did, releasing a stream of white onto the man’s hand and on his own thighs. Moments later, the man came, biting down again into the flesh of Matt’s neck as he emptied himself. They rested enough to catch their breath before the man pulled out of him and tied off the condom. He pushed him against the wall, kissing him deeply, before walking off without a word.  
_

\---

The man outstretched his hand, Foggy shaking it first, saying something about being happy to take the case, and then he turned towards Matt. He took his hand, the softness of it feeling familiar in his own rougher one. He felt the spark that he felt last night, and Matt was surprised by that; he rarely had any interest in someone after he’d slept with them. And he had even less interest now, cognitively, as he was sure this man worked for the devil. But Matt was a masochist and dammit if that didn't make him hotter. He wanted him to know, wanted him to feel a wave of discomfort, of uncertainty, that whomever he actually was, that his clandestine ways could put his precious ‘employer’ at risk. It was risky, stupid even, but the decision was made. 

Matt casually tugged aside the collar of his shirt, exposing the side of his neck where a very obvious bite mark was beginning to dull. That did it; the nameless man paused, his silken words halted by recognition and memory. Matt tried very hard not to grin.


End file.
